


Behind Closed Doors

by Sarbear08



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Could Be Canon, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Sherlock Holmes Teaches John Watson to Dance, Slow Dancing, Why Can't They Just Be Happy, no but seriously so much angst, sherlock teaches john how to waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarbear08/pseuds/Sarbear08
Summary: We all know Sherlock taught John to waltz for his wedding. This is what happened behind the closed doors of 221b.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 98





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I know John had moved out of Baker Street by this point, but for the sake of this story, we’re just going to pretend he’s still living there.

“John!” Sherlock bellowed from his more than comfortable perch on his chair.

He paused for a moment before shouting again in the general direction of the stairs, “John!”

Sherlock smiled to himself when he heard footsteps—albeit angry ones—thunking across the floor of the upper level of the flat. Seconds later, John appeared at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed in a stance that was presumably meant to convey a certain amount of distain.

“Sherlock, if you want me to pass you your phone, it is right there on the table,” John pointed rather aggressively at Sherlock’s mobile, which was indeed resting amongst the haphazard clutter on the kitchen table.

“No, that’s not what I wanted,” Sherlock said, undeterred by John’s petulance.

“Your bloody laptop is right there,” John said exasperatedly, pointing to the desk.

“Still not what I wanted.”

John raised an impatient eyebrow. “Well then?”

“I wanted you,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

“Me– I’m sorry?” John choked out.

“Yes, I–”

“Sherlock,” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “My wedding is _tomorrow_ night. I need to _sleep._ ”

“Yes, of course I know your wedding is tomorrow, that’s what this is about,” Sherlock said.

“Oh. Though you’d finished planning everything.”

“I did.”

“Ah. Right. Good then.” John’s brow furrowed slightly. “Then what did you want me for?”

“The waltz,” Sherlock announced.

“What?”

Sherlock lifted a tiny remote and pressed a button on it. A light, classical melody filled the room.

“Sherlock?” John asked. “What is this?”

“You can’t go to a wedding without knowing how to waltz, can you?”

“And what would make you think that I don’t know how to waltz?” John asked defiantly.

“Do you?”

“…No.”

Sherlock gave John a smug smirk. John rolled his eyes, but a small smile played at his lips.

“Come on,” Sherlock said, standing up and holding out a hand.

“Huh?”

Sherlock waved John over. “Come on,” he repeated.

“Oh. Like right now?” John asked in surprise. “With you?”

“No with the chair. Yes, with me,” Sherlock quipped.

John rolled his eyes, but stepped towards Sherlock, tentatively taking his outstretched hand. Sherlock guided John’s other hand to rest just above his waist, then found John’s shoulder with his own hand.

“Alright,” Sherlock began. “You’ll be leading, obviously. So first, take a step forward with your left foot.”

“Okay,” John said, doing as he was told.

Sherlock let out a small sigh. “Your _other_ left, John.”

“Oh,” John blushed. “Right, sorry. I mean left. Never mind.” He shook his head, silently cursing himself.

“Good,” Sherlock praised him. “Now to the right first. Yes, like that. Feet together now. Good. Now step back with your right. Yes. To the left. Feet together now. Excellent John. And again. Forward. Right. Together. Back. Left. Together.”

They soon fell into an easy rhythm together, dancing through the flat and somehow managing not to knock any furniture over.

“That’s not so bad,” John said after a few moments.

“Not so bad indeed,” Sherlock replied, flashing John one of his rare, genuine smiles.

John couldn’t help but grin back. “Never thought dancing would be something you’d know how to do,” he commented.

“I am a man of many talents, John,” Sherlock said as though this were old news.

“I know.”

They continued swaying in time to the music with John taking the lead more confidently now.

A few moments later, there was a creak followed by a gasp that could barely be heard over the volume of the music. John and Sherlock pulled away from each other almost instantaneously, like two opposing magnets repelled by one another.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Hudson gasped, staring at the two of them from the doorway with her hand held across her heart. “Sorry to have interrupted you boys.”

“No worries, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock assured her.

John could feel the tips of his ears turning pink and he tried quite hard to will the blush away.

“I just thought you boys might want a cuppa, but I’ll just come back later, how’s that? Or maybe I’ll just come by in the morning.” Mrs. Hudson, apparently forgetting altogether that John was in fact, getting married to a _woman_ the next day, winked at them before disappearing from the room and making sure to shut the door behind her.

John and Sherlock glanced at one another, bursting into a fit of laughter the second their eyes made contact.

John clutched at his side as he regained his breath, and when his eyes met Sherlock’s this time, something different passed between them. Something entirely new. Something _electric._

“Did dance you want?” Sherlock asked eloquently. He cleared his throat and gave his head a slight shake, then tried again. “Did you want to continue? Dancing I mean? Get a bit more practice.”

“Yes,” John said, a bit quicker than he’d like to admit, and soon they were hand in hand once more, swaying around the small flat.

John’s eyes darted wildly around the space just beside Sherlock’s head, unable to look him in the eye. He could _feel_ Sherlock’s gaze burning into him, though, and it was almost unbearable. Almost.

John’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and he couldn’t help but notice how Sherlock’s gaze followed it, seemingly locked onto the simple motion. When their eyes briefly met, John noticed there was a barely contained hunger in Sherlock’s gaze that most definitely hadn’t been there earlier.

As John took a step forward with his left foot, he stretched a bit further and covered a bit more distance than Sherlock’s step back, bringing them slightly closer together. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock noticed this or not—he was the great Sherlock Holmes, of course he noticed—but the action received no protest.

John continued to take larger steps forward than necessary and smaller steps backward, until he was sure Sherlock was doing the same, bringing them alarmingly close together. Suddenly Sherlock’s tall frame was looming over him, his piercing bright blue eyes seemingly boring directly into John’s very soul.

John took a deep breath before returning the gaze, staring straight into Sherlock’s eyes. John stumbled distractedly over his own feet, but neither man seemed to take much notice. Sherlock’s only response was to shift his hand so it no longer rested on John’s shoulder, but on his back now, pulling him in even closer still. And who was John to say no?

John leaned forward slowly—giving Sherlock plenty of time to pull back if he wanted—and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder. Shortly after, they found their fingers had entwined with one another of their own accord, though no move was made to untangle them.

John shifted his head so that his cheek was resting on Sherlock’s shoulder, his nose brushing lightly against the side of his neck. The silk of Sherlock’s robe was soft and cool when it brushed against John’s cheek as they swayed. They were long past the point of doing anything remotely resembling a waltz, and were simply just swaying lazily from side to side.

The streets had long since darkened outside the windows of the flat and the music had stopped playing long ago. Yet still they swayed in the dark, holding on to one another almost painfully tight.

It was glaringly, blatantly obvious how they felt for one another. Not just in this moment, but in all the subtle looks. The unnecessarily extended periods of eye contact. The simple things they remembered about one another. How well they knew each other, like they were two halves of a whole.

If someone happened to look up at the window—if anyone was still awake at this hour, that is—they would have seen the silhouette of two men, both deeply in love yet too foolish to say anything about it, swaying in time with the synchronized beating of their hearts.

******

“Boys?” Mrs. Hudson called out as she pushed the door open with a resounding creak.

She failed miserably in stifling a gasp at the sight that greeted her.

Sherlock was sprawled out on the couch with John resting on top of him, in between his legs. John’s face was nuzzled in the crook of Sherlock’s neck and one of his arms was lost somewhere underneath Sherlock’s body, the fingers of his other hand tangled into his dark curls. Sherlock’s head was tilted slightly so that his nose was buried deeply in John’s hair, both of his arms wrapped around John, holding him tightly against his chest.

Mrs. Hudson held a hand over her heart. “Oh my,” she whispered.

She should wake them, she really should. They had a wedding to get ready for, after all, but she couldn’t possibly bear the thought of rousing them and dragging them back to a heartbreaking reality.

Perhaps it would’ve been different, she thought to herself. Oh, for their sakes how she wished it could have been different. They looked so positively peaceful in each other’s arms, how could she even think of spoiling that? And so she tip toed from the room as quietly as she’d come, giving them a few more treasured moments of peace together before their lives were irrevocably changed.


End file.
